


Going Nowhere

by fleshandfantasies



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Computer Games, Darren's songs, Fluff, Gay Sex, Going Nowhere, Homework EP, M/M, Mild Smut, One Shot, crisscolfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleshandfantasies/pseuds/fleshandfantasies
Summary: After their breakup, Chris feels like he has nowhere to go. When they finally meet again, they discover they can go nowhere together.





	Going Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> I started this back in June when I first saw the video of Darren playing this song at the Teregram Ballroom, and it's taken me this long to get my shit together and finish it. I hope you enjoy.

It’s been three months.

Three months and the most he’s received from Darren is a few text messages, one phone call that was apparently a butt dial, and silence. Heavy, thick, lumbering silence. Silence that hangs over his house like a cloud and makes him feel like he’s floating up, up, up until he’s disappeared.

He knows he’s busy. Darren never was satisfied unless he was doing fourteen things at once, so it seems natural that he would start a band with his brother the same time that he’s guest starring on several different TV shows and supposedly working on his own album. It also isn’t a surprise that the band has been so successful. Darren has a charm that would sell anything even if he wasn’t incredibly talented.

The problem is, Darren being busy means a lot of news about him. Every time Chris opens his phone, someone is tweeting or snapping or posting about Darren Criss. Darren Criss, a name that hangs over him every day and distracts him from the things he should be doing. Hell, he should be busy, too.

He spends hours debating whether or not to text him. And then once he decides to text him, he spends another long time wondering exactly what he should say. But everything he wants to say sounds stupid and wrong and he ends up talking himself out of saying anything at all, which brings him right back to feeling empty and heavy and confused.

He turns every social media notification off, but then starts getting angry calls from his manager because he isn’t being active with the fans. So he turns the fucking Twitter notifications back on and just as he does so, he sees something pop up with the words “Darren Criss” in it, and that isn’t new, but then “L.A Concert” is there, too. Teragram Ballroom. And Chris tries to talk himself out of it, he really does, but it’s just no use.

He has to see him. Not speak to him, that would be too much. Just see him. Be near him, in a public place that would provide anonymity. A concert is the perfect place for that. He’s buying a ticket before he can think twice.

He’s not excited, excitement implies that you’re looking forward to something. Chris isn’t exactly expecting this to be a good experience, in fact, he knows it will be painful. But more importantly, he’s eager to lift this burden and get on with his life, and seeing Darren, even when Darren doesn’t know he’s seeing him, would provide at least some sort of closure. And Chris needs closure, because dammit, he has things to do other than pine.

The night of the concert, Chris is terrified. A deep sense of dread is settling in his stomach and if he had been able to eat anything all day, it probably would have come up. He closes his eyes and rocks a little on his heels, trying to steady himself. He could handle this. 

Dark clothes, a hoodie, and sunglasses. That’s all it should take to make him less recognizable in the darkness of the concert space. He takes the walk there to prepare himself, and to make himself just late enough that his entrance wouldn’t be noticed. Once he’s settled in his seat in the back, he finally breathes.

Chris has just managed to convince himself that this wasn’t a big deal at all and really, he’d been silly for being so nervous when Darren walks out. He feels his heart rate spike and he holds tightly to the arms of his seat. Darren is so far away that he can barely make out his face, and that, Chris is grateful for. It doesn’t matter where his seat is, he has a feeling if he could see Darren, really see him, then Darren would see him, too.

Chris manages to relax himself eventually, his heart going from a rabbit’s pace back down to a human. A human with very high blood pressure, granted, but it’s better. The music is good, objectively, and he’s heard most of the songs before. Darren is as casual and confident as ever on stage and his brother is enthusiastic. Once the pain in Chris’ chest has subsided enough that he can pay attention, he almost enjoys himself.

Darren waits for the crowd to quiet before he begins to speak. “This next song is actually one that I’ve been sitting on for years. Tonight felt like a good night to share it, so I really hope I don’t mess this up.”

He laughs a little as he picks up his guitar and the audience cheers again. Chris leans forward a little, intrigued. A new song?

Darren plays a few chords to open it and the people in the crowd have quieted so they can hear it. It’s a soft, pretty song, and Darren’s voice has quieted to match it.

_I’m going nowhere,_  
I can’t move forward,  
I’m so much colder than I’ve been. 

Chris almost has to strain to hear, but he hears enough. Just from the opening lines, he can recognize the song. It _was_ new, Darren had never sang it in public, but Chris had heard him from time to time. Darren would sing it softly to himself around the house, the way he did when he couldn’t get something he was working on out of his head.

_Since the October,_  
When we were closer,  
And it was love that we were in. 

Once this clicks in Chris’ brain, he starts to panic all over again. He doesn’t know the words well enough to have a clear memory of them, but the distinct image in his mind of Darren singing it- _his_ Darren, the Darren that doesn’t seem to match up with the one on the stage… it’s too much. And the dread in his stomach is back and Chris knows he was right, he was so, so right to be afraid of coming here. He shouldn’t have come at all, he should have left well enough alone, because he’s never going to stop thinking about this. He’s never going to get rid of the memory of Darren on this stage in this blue lighting, wearing that damn tank top that shows off his arms and his voice hushed into the microphone, singing this song softly, just for him.

It’s too much. It’s Darren, and there’s so many people around him he feels like he’s going to suffocate. He’s going to fall apart and die right there if he doesn’t get out. Chris pushes past the girls sitting next to him and stumbles out into the aisle. He runs out of the ballroom and onto the street. He doesn’t stop running until he’s halfway home in an empty street and finally, finally alone. 

His brain feels frazzled as he walks the rest of the way home. A numbness settles in, a disbelief that he imagined the whole thing. He’d never heard that song before, he was being ridiculous. He unlocks the front door and goes back into his bedroom, methodically undressing and getting ready for bed. Darren’s voice stays with him as he lies down, the song flowing through his veins as he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

_We said our goodbye,_  
And I close my eyes,  
And you’re still here. 

***

When Chris wakes up, he can’t remember what his dream was about. He tries to convince himself that the concert had been a dream, but he sees his ticket stub on his nightstand. Damn.

He gets out of bed and refuses to check his phone. He takes a long, hot shower and leaves his phone in the bedroom. He gets dressed and eats breakfast and brushes his teeth and shaves before he finally makes himself pick his phone up. A hundred text messages, that was normal. He opens Twitter again and, oh, god, of course, the first thing on his feed is a video. Of Darren. Singing in the Teragram Ballroom. _Damn._

His thumb hesitates over it as he argues with himself whether to scroll or play it. Eventually, he presses the play button, if only to make sure that no one had caught him on video. That’s what he tells himself anyway.

It’s that fucking song. He recognizes it in the first few seconds and takes a deep breath so that he doesn’t chuck his phone out the window. He closes his eyes and listens. It’s easier now that he’s alone, and Darren isn’t right in front of him, only trapped in the screen. He listens until the song ends, and then he plays it again. After a third time, he can’t deny it to himself anymore. He knows this song. He’d been hearing this song in his head and his heart for months, he just didn’t have the words to go with it.   
Darren had told the truth, he had been working on it for years. As Chris listens to the video, he remembers a few of the phrases. The chord progressions are familiar, and Darren’s voice, of course, is the same. It twists like a tiny push pin into Chris’ heart, twisting and churning and stinging. 

Chris breaks several promises to himself that day. He doesn’t get anything done, and he definitely doesn’t forget about the concert. The final promise he breaks is at 5:42 pm, when he’s given up on writing a single page and has instead settled on his couch with a glass of wine in his hand. He holds his phone in the other, mindlessly scrolling while he thinks. Without realizing he was going to do it, he finds himself opening up his text messages and typing Darren’s name.

Maybe all he’d needed to text Darren before was a few glasses of wine, because this time, the text comes easily.

**Great job last night. Your songs were beautiful.**

He stares at it for a long time once he’s sent it. It’s simple enough. Innocent. Friendly. Absolutely nothing for Darren to read into. He sets his phone down once he’s satisfied and goes to get himself another glass of wine. When he sits down again, his phone screen lights up.

**Thanks, man. I wish you’d stuck around afterward, I would have loved to see you.**

Simple. Innocent. Friendly. Absolutely nothing for Chris to read into. But that doesn’t stop him, because it’s simply unnatural not to over-analyze texts from your ex. Darren had called him “man,” which he’d never done. It was forced, a desperate attempt to sound casual.

Darren would have _loved_ to see him. Not _liked_ to see him, no, he said loved. And that one word made the tiny push pin in Chris’ chest push in a little farther.

Of course it doesn’t mean anything. Of course it doesn’t. Darren’s word choice was probably accidental, in fact it certainly was, because Chris hadn’t heard the word “love” out of Darren’s lips since weeks before they broke up, when everything was first starting to fall apart. The text was friendly, that was all.

Chris manages to convince himself of that, and he was pretty damn proud of it, too. They had communicated, and now surely that could be the end of it.

And it would have been. If his phone screen hadn’t lit up again.

**Are you still in L.A?**

Chris stares at the text, blinking. Of course he’s still in L.A. He lives here. Darren knows that. He knows, which means that isn’t the question he’s really asking. There’s something else there.

**Yes.**

**Maybe we could meet up? I could cook dinner for us.**

There it is. That’s what the “I would have loved to see you” and the question with the obvious answer had really been asking. Darren really does want to see him. And that’s terrifying.

He could say no. Darren is a polite enough person not to push it, and now that they have the closure Chris has been seeking, this could be the end of it. He’s been given a door as well as the power to close it. And maybe once he’s on the other side of it, he could finally find the quiet he’d been seeking. Not the heavy, deafening silence, but truly, peaceful, quiet.

He almost says no. He wants to say no. But when he tries to type out the words, the pin stabs him hard in the chest, in the heart. He realizes that this is it. If he refuses this, Darren would know that he his “no” is permanent. Darren would respectfully stay on his own side of the damn door and never contact him again. That thought is dreadful and awful and Chris can’t take it. He erases his refusal and quickly types something else.

**What time?**

***

It’s 6:19 when Chris realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s meeting Darren at seven, which means he’s been trying to get himself ready since about 4:30. Nearly an hour was spent deciding what to wear, which, for Chris, is ridiculous. He’s having dinner with a friend, so he should just throw something on, right?

Wrong. Because Darren isn’t his friend, is he? So Chris now has to navigate what exactly it means to have dinner with your ex boyfriend. Is it a date? If it’s a date, he needs to wear something nice. But if it _isn’t_ date and he shows up dressed like it _is,_ then Darren will think he’s gotten the wrong idea, and maybe he has, and he gets weirded out. Or, worse, he pities him and feels bad for inviting him over in the first place.

And if _is_ a date and he shows up dressed like it _isn’t…_ oh, hell. He shoves every other thought out of his mind and puts on the type of clothes that we would wear to a meeting. A formal-but-not-fancy, friendly-but-not-romantic meeting. 

His hair is apparently as nervous as the rest of him, because it takes him twice as long to style it. And then it’s 6:15 and there’s nothing else for him to do but wait. And waiting means he’s left alone with his thoughts and he starts to panic. He could barely handle being in the same building as Darren when he was hundreds of feet away, what makes him think he can have dinner?  
He almost cancels. But canceling means that he’s backing out, he’s giving up, and Chris isn’t someone who just gives up. So goddammit, he’s going to have dinner and drink wine and be polite and have a fucking swell time, because that’s just the way things have to be.

And who can resist Darren’s cooking anyway?

So after another fifteen minutes of nearly exploding with nerves, Chris finally gets in his car and starts to drive. He almost gets turned around on the way there, and that makes him a little sad, because he used to be able to drive to Darren’s house with his eyes closed. He gets there at 6:57 and still feels like that’s a little too early, so he waits in his car and only gets out once the clock on his dashboard actually says 7:00.

Darren opens the door almost immediately and greets him with a big smile and an even bigger hug, which Chris tries to reciprocate.

“Hey! I was beginning to worry that you weren’t going to come.”

“It’s only just now seven.” Chris protests.

“It is?” Darren’s head swivels around to look at the clock. “Oh. Huh. I guess I got a little impatient.”

And then he’s leading Chris to the table before Chris can even try to figure out what _that_ meant. Darren insists that Chris sit down while he brings all the food to the table. Chris doesn’t know enough about cooking to name it, but it’s hot and smells spicy and Darren has clearly been working on it for a while because he smells like the spices, too. Chris feels dizzy.

“Lesso e pearà, signore.” Darren grins as he presents him with his plate.

“Thank you.” Chris smiles. The food does smell really good, maybe even good enough to make all this worth it.

Darren sits down next to him with his own plate. It’s quiet for a while, save for the clink of their silverware against the plates. They’re nice plates, Chris notices absently. Pretty china plates with a floral pattern on them. 

“...worried it would be too soon.” 

Chris snaps out of his brief porcelain fascination to hear Darren finishing a sentence.

“I’m sorry?”

Darren looks up at him. “Oh. I just said I was glad you agreed to come. I didn’t know if you’d want to after… after the way things ended.”

So they _are_ going to talk about it. Wonderful. “No, of course I want to see you.” Chris assures him quickly. “That’s why I came to your concert.” 

Darren gives him a smile. Gives it to him freely, the way he always did. “I was wondering about that. Not that I mind, of course, but I was surprised when you told me you came.”

Chris tries to shrug casually. He manages the shrug, maybe not the casual part. “I’ll admit I was a little curious as to what you and your brother were up to. I’d been hearing a lot about the band and wanted to see it for myself.”

Darren’s smile grows. “And what did you think of it? Honestly?”

This time Chris smiles a tiny bit too. “It was good. It was really good. Both of you are very talented.”

This answer earns him the biggest smile yet. “Thanks. I’m really enjoying getting to work with Chuck. They always tell you not to mix business and family, but we’ve been writing songs together since we were teenagers.”

“Well, you seemed happy up there.”

“I was. I am. What about you?”

Chris looks up at him. “What about me?”

“Are you happy?”

Oh. Chris pauses then, because he isn’t used to being asked that. The truth is, he isn’t. He hasn’t been in months and really, Darren has to know that. He has to, which means he’s doing it again. He’s asking him something else.

“Of course.”

Darren nods, and then they’re both quiet for a bit while they finish their food. And then Darren is taking the dishes and asking him if he’d like some wine. Chris would really, really, really like some wine. Actually, he’d like something stronger, but wine will do.

Darren takes him to the couch where he pours them both some wine. He sets the bottle on the coffee table next to a plate, and oh hey, cheesecake. Chris wishes he was still hungry, but his stomach has turned to knots. Darren is closer than he was. Not close enough to invade his space, no, Darren is being very careful about that. But he’s close.

It turns out to be okay, though. The make small talk and drink their wine. It’s good wine. Chris has two glasses without realizing it. Darren doesn’t say anything, probably because he’s had just as much.

“Your book was published recently, right?”

Chris nods. Takes a sip of wine. “Yes. The last one of the series.”

“That’s incredible, Chris. I know how hard you worked on those.”

Chris lets himself smile. “Thank you. I know you had to witness a lot of late nights full of stress.”

“Too many to count. Luckily I always knew how to relieve your stress.”

They freeze at the same time. Darren blushes and immediately starts apologizing, which Chris rebuffs with “It’s fine, it’s fine.” 

Darren sets his glass down deliberately, evidently deciding he’s had enough. Chris holds onto his, sure he’s going to need more if this keeps up. 

“Of course, I’m sure you’ve found someone to do that anyway.” Darren says, his cheeks still red.

“To… relieve my stress?’

“Um, yeah.”

“Oh. Um, no. Not yet.”

“Oh.” Darren looks down. “Yeah, me neither.”

They're both quiet while that information settles. Eventually, Darren gives up his brief stint of being sober and pours himself another glass.

“When I told Chuck you came, to the concert I mean, he said he saw you.” Darren said. 

Chris looked up. “He did?”

“Yeah, he saw you leave. He said you looked kind of sick.”

Chris bit his lip. “I'd say that's accurate.”

Darren gave him kind of a crooked smile. “Our playing made you sick? Geez, I knew the songs were a little rough-”

“Not the songs. Just… you.”

Darren nodded. “Oh. Well, that makes sense. My appearance has been known to induce nausea.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “God. I just meant- _seeing_ you. After all this time I thought I'd be able to handle it, but….” He looked down into his glass.

Darren nodded again, slower. “Right.” He glanced at him. “How do you feel now?”

“Now?”

“Well, I’m right here and you don't seem to be in danger of puking. Let me know if you are, though, I'd like to be out of your immediate range.” 

Chris shook his head, giving a tiny smile. “I'm fine. More than fine. I feel- This feels good.”

“Yeah?” Darren seemed closer now, much closer than he was before.

“Yeah.” Chris confirmed, meeting his eyes. “I think we needed this.”

Darren nodded. He was definitely closer now. Chris must have missed him moving. He could touch him, if he wanted to. His arm, his chest, his face, all of him was right there and if he wanted to he could just reach out and-

Darren's lips are on his before he realizes he's leaned toward him. Chris is lost for a minute, lost in the ocean of his touch and kiss and he can't breathe, until Darren's arms are around him and _oh._

Shit. Chris pulls back and nearly falls off the couch in his attempt to get away. Darren’s arms fall off of him, albeit reluctantly, as he gives him a look that’s half-confused and half-hurt.

“I have to go.” Chris says. His voice sounds strained to his own ears, but he doesn’t care. He just has to get out before he does something stupid. Well, stupider.

“You don’t.” Darren says quickly. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry-”  
“Thank you for dinner.” It’s absurd for him to be making pleasantries right now, but Chris’ brain is on autopilot. The only thing he focuses on is grabbing his jacket and trying to run as he made his way toward the door.

“Chris, you really-” Darren starts.

“I’ll see you.” That’s probably a lie, but what is he supposed to say? He hears Darren’s voice, still trying to convince him to stay, as he closes the door behind him. He hears it all the way to the car and all the way home. He hears it as he lays in bed, trying to forget and just fucking sleep, but he can’t.

He’s almost managed to fall asleep when he hears his phone buzz. He knows who it is before he checks, but he looks anyway.

**Thanks for coming over. Sorry if I freaked you out.**

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to, anyway. He just closes his eyes and waits until sleep catches him again.

_If you could just show me_  
Where I can go nowhere  
That’s where I’ll be. 

***

Two days pass, and Chris has actually managed to get something done. It’s like the kiss cleared his head, pushed Darren further back in there and just out of reach so he can finally focus. He writes a lot, calls his publisher to tell her he’s almost done. He’s almost made it.

He’s so deep into what his friend Ashley calls his “Zombie Mode” that he doesn’t hear the doorbell. He doesn’t hear anything until someone knocks loudly, making him jump and snap out of his writing trance. He sighs runs his hand through his hair going to door and preparing to tell whatever salesman was behind it that he wasn’t interested, and he was _busy-_

Of course, it isn’t a salesman. That would be too easy.

Chris stares at him for a moment, before he blinks, clears his throat, and finds his voice. “Um, come in.”

***

He fucking brought flowers. It’s ridiculous, but Chris is actually grateful for it, because it gives him a minute in the kitchen to collect himself while he pretends to look for a vase. He tells Darren to have a seat, which he does, and when Chris comes back to the living room, Darren’s got his hands on a picture frame.

“I remember this night.”

Chris blinks, looks down at the picture. “I do, too.”

Darren either doesn’t hear him or decides to remind him anyway. “We went out for Ash’s birthday. She got drunk and we had to practically carry her home. You stayed with her and I went home alone.”

Darren isn’t in the picture. Chris wouldn’t have kept it up if he was. He’s wondering where exactly Darren is going with this when he looks up and meets Chris’ eyes.

“I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“Drink?” That obviously isn’t what Darren means, but Chris honestly has no idea what he _does_ mean, and this whole situation has him kind of frazzled. He can barely think, and when Darren takes his hand, he barely registers it. 

_I wonder if she remembers something  
The way that I remember her._

“Go home alone. Sleep alone.” His voice is quiet, almost as if he doesn’t want Chris to hear. “It’s exhausting. I work, I go home and sleep, I wake up and do it again. Everything’s a blur.”

_I wonder if pre-September ever was_  
The way we were.  
It’s all a blur. 

“You’re the only thing, you’ve always been the only thing, that makes things clear.” Chris can feel the warmth of Darren’s hand on his. It reminds him of his lips, the way they felt on his. Warm. Safe.

_And maybe you’re right, I’m scared_  
It might go nowhere,  
And it’s making it hard to believe. 

“I really need that clarity right now.” Chris can feel Darren’s breath on his neck, and this time it’s him that turns and meets his lips. Darren meets him halfway, catching him just in time, because Chris feels like he’s falling. He’s falling, he’s giving in, and he can’t hold on anymore. 

Darren holds on for him as he leads him back, backing him against the couch. Chris lets himself fall deeper, heavier as he lays down. Darren’s on top of him, keeping him down and keeping him together as he gives and takes, gives Darren his surrender and takes everything he’s giving back.

Darren’s hands are hot on his skin, pressing and touching and drawing soft cries out from the back of his throat. He feels heavy and light at the same time, weighted down by Darren’s hands and by his own _need,_ but he’s free, so free and loose and floaty as he closes his eyes and takes it.

Darren kisses his shoulder, his arms still wrapped firmly around his waist. “We should get cleaned up.” He murmurs, his breath warm and tickling against Chris’ skin.

“Why?” Chris chuckles a little. “We have nowhere to be.”

_I’m going nowhere,  
And there is nowhere I’d rather be._


End file.
